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<title>𝐃𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐨 🁡 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝐻𝑜𝑏𝑏𝑖𝑡 by Adrenalineshots, sonshineandshowers, TheFibreWitch</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26504350">𝐃𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐨 🁡 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝐻𝑜𝑏𝑏𝑖𝑡</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adrenalineshots/pseuds/Adrenalineshots'>Adrenalineshots</a>, <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/sonshineandshowers/pseuds/sonshineandshowers'>sonshineandshowers</a>, <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFibreWitch/pseuds/TheFibreWitch'>TheFibreWitch</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Domino 🁡 [27]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Prodigal Son (TV 2019)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Case Fic, Digital Art, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hallucinations, Harassment, Health Emergency, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Mental Health Issues, Metafiction, Murder Mystery, Nightmares, Surrealism, Trauma, Unreliable Narrator, Video, a lot of really strange stuff that happens in altered states of consciousness, anxiousness, reader-driven</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 13:15:14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,561</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26504350</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adrenalineshots/pseuds/Adrenalineshots, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sonshineandshowers/pseuds/sonshineandshowers, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFibreWitch/pseuds/TheFibreWitch</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Selecting 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝐻𝑜𝑏𝑏𝑖𝑡 from the bookshelf, Malcolm travels through his own mind.</p><p>Read this story at: <a href="https://www.thedominostory.com/#the-hobbit">https://www.thedominostory.com/#the-hobbit</a></p><p>This book is one part of the Domino series. If you have not yet read the <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26497927/chapters/64577434#workskin">Preface</a> or <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26497927/chapters/64588537#workskin">Introduction</a>, please head there first.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Domino 🁡 [27]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1926451</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Domino 🁡, Prodigal Son Big Bang 2020 - Saturday Posts</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>𝐃𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐨 🁡 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝐻𝑜𝑏𝑏𝑖𝑡</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jameena/gifts">Jameena</a>, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissScorp/gifts">MissScorp</a>, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProcrastinatingSab/gifts">ProcrastinatingSab</a>.</li>


        <li>
            Inspired by

            <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/685357">The Hobbit</a> by J. R. R. Tolkien.
        </li>

    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This book is one part of the Domino series. If you have not yet read the <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26497927/chapters/64577434#workskin">Preface</a> or <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26497927/chapters/64588537#workskin">Introduction</a>, please head there first.</p><p>Betaed by the wonderful <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jameena/">Jameena</a>, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissScorp/">MissScorp</a>, and <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProcrastinatingSab/">ProcrastinatingSab</a>.</p><p>Credit to the creators and their works that inspired and were referenced in this work:<br/><b>— Inspiration: </b><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Hobbit">The Hobbit</a> - J. R. R. Tolkien<br/><b>— Cover Song: </b><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BEm0AjTbsac&amp;t=3s">Far Over the Misty Mountains Cold</a> - The Hobbit Soundtrack</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
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</table><p>In a hole in the ground there lived Malcolm’s sanity. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a cushioned, handmade hole, one that he liked to visit on occasion and bring treats.</p><p>In a different hole, in a different part of the world, lived the biggest threat to Malcolm’s carefully hidden sanity.</p><p>Dragons are imaginary creatures, stories long forgotten and turned to myth. But in this hole, there lived a dragon.</p><p>Even though there were iron bars on the outside to keep the dragon from escaping his prison, it was a well known fact that they also served to protect those who ventured too close from being eaten by this dragon.</p><p>There was no gold in the dragon’s lair, its walls painted red with the blood of those who had come before.</p><p>Malcolm had been encumbered with the task of facing the dragon and asking some questions. He had been warned about the dragon’s personality, how he enjoyed playing games and getting inside people’s minds.</p><p>Malcolm snuck his hand into his jacket pocket and felt for the small object inside. His fingers played with the round shape, taking comfort in its presence even if he had no plans to use it.</p><p>The keeper of the gates opened the door, sending a warning look to the small man stepping inside. There were no words needed, Malcolm already knew the risks. “Hello, Dr. Whitly,” he greeted the dragon.</p><p>“Malcolm, my boy!” the dragon greeted him enthusiastically, a smile that showed all of his sharp teeth wreathing his whiskered face. “What brings you to my humble cave today?”</p><p>Malcolm took a deep breath. Had this been the dragon's real cave, he would be smelling the mouldy tang of old gold, piled to the roof, coins and gems glinting in the dark, shifting as the no longer sleeping dragon moved. Instead, he could only smell the faint remains of his own aftershave. “A woman is dead,” he started, shaking hands grasping the file that he carried. “Killed by a book.”</p><p>The dragon's eyebrows rose, entertained by the idea. There was a smirk upon his lips. “Intriguing,” Martin lets out, coming closer, sniffing the file in Malcolm’s hands like a hound searching for prey. “Bludgeoned to death?” he asked, barely masking his thirst for blood.</p><p>Malcolm took a step back, fearing the dragon would try and snatch the papers from his grasp. His right hand snuck inside his pocket once again, seeking the warmth of what he carried inside. He was so eager to reach for it, to use it as a security blanket against the feelings that the dragon had awoken... “Something more subtle...poison, I believe.”</p><p>“Oh! A lady's weapon of choice,” the dragon hissed, satisfied. “Lover's quarrel, perhaps?”</p><p>Malcolm twitched his nose. “There's something about it that doesn't add up,” he confessed, for a moment letting his guard down and forgetting where he was and who he was talking to. “The case seems too clean cut, the evidence too lined up, almost staged.”</p><p>“A frame job?” the dragon suggested, his voice much too close for comfort. It was easy to forget just how big he was until his green eyes were a few inches away.</p><p>Malcolm stumbled back with a yelp, surprised by the dragon’s proximity. Outside, the keeper of the gate gave him a questioning look, the keys ready in his hands. The profiler shook his head, regaining his footing, both mental and physical. “That is not why I'm here...I need to understand,” he voiced, facing the dragon head-on, “I need you to help me understand!”</p><p>Martin Whitly smiled coyly, looking at the man in his cave like a cat who had been offered a tasty treat. Behind his back, the tail tethering him to the wall shook in joyful anticipation. “Only if you tell me what's in your pocket,” he purred, his deep voice bouncing off the closed walls.</p><p>Malcolm's hand spasmed against his hidden treasure, refusing to allow the dragon to know of its existence. “That's not why I'm here.”</p><p>The dragon drew back, neck pulled back like he was ready to breathe fire. “But I'm curious!” he let out instead of flames. “Should I take a gander?”</p><p>Malcolm sighed. “I'm here to discuss the crime,” he tried, but the dragon's attention was elsewhere. “Have no interest in that?”</p><p>“<em>Please</em>,” he breathed out. “It's far too easy, barely a mental exercise, a case you could solve in your sleep,” the dragon said, dismissing any chance of going back to the subject. “Now, the thing that you keep fondling inside your pocket...that I'm interested in!”</p><p>“I have nothing inside my pocket,” Malcolm tried, fumbling with his coat, fearing the shape under the fabric would give away his secret. “And if you're unwilling to help with the case, then I'm wasting my time here and should just leave.”</p><p>“NO!” the dragon bleated, showing his true colors for a fleeting moment before he could control his temper. “<em>No, </em>just... just let me guess what it is. I love games!” he said, more tamely. “Is it a ring?”</p><p>Malcolm gave him a look. Dragons and rings inside people's pockets sounded strangely familiar and it was hard to resist the urge to undo his shoes, just to confirm that his feet hadn't suddenly turned hairy. “It's not a ring. Why would it be a ring?”</p><p>“Do you think you can deceive me?” the dragon hissed. “It is a magic ring! Show it to me!”</p><p>Malcolm blinked, unsure if he was hearing right. “I don't have to do <em>anything</em>,” he reminded the imprisoned dragon. “Goodbye, Dr. Whitly,” he said, turning his back. He could hear the dragon pacing and fuming, furious that he had been denied both his riddle and an answer.</p><p>“I am fire! I am death! Tell me what it is!” the dragon demanded, frothing at the mouth, his screams suddenly fading away as the gatekeeper closed the dungeon's doors on the cave, containing the monster inside.</p><p>Malcolm sighed in shaky relief. He had gained no information, but he had managed to survive with his sanity intact. Only when he could feel the warm breeze and invigorating air of the world outside, did he find the courage to take the object from his pocket. He hadn't lied. It wasn't a ring.</p><p>It was a green wrapped candy.</p><p>The same as Gil had once given to him as his father was taken away by the police. A father for a candy had seemed like a fair enough trade.</p><p>Unwrapping the sweet, Malcolm pushed the round shape inside his mouth, closing his eyes at the explosion of lemony flavor that hit his tongue. It made him feel invincible.</p><p>Capable of anything.</p><p><em>Safe</em>.</p><p>— ◌◯◌ —</p>
<p></p><div class="note">
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  <p>The conference room table is lined with abandoned cups of coffee, paper cups and mugs left behind signaling they haven’t moved in a while. One of them should probably get up soon to clear the mess, but the urge hasn’t gotten Dani to that point yet. As long as they can get by with the research in front of them, they’ll probably stay put.</p>
  <p>“The list of ghostwriters reads like pseudonyms,” she points out. “It’s like if you decided to be Sal Maynard.”</p>
  <p>“Awful name — remind me we shouldn’t let you pick when we go undercover — and terrible idea for transparency in the police force,” JT says.</p>
  <p>Easily seeing his point, she drops it. “Why is it okay in that field? Letting someone hide behind an alternate identity?”</p>
  <p>“Sometimes, it’s not safe.”</p>
  <p>She has seen that be a problem. With some of the activists she’s listened to, especially.</p>
  <p>“Sometimes it’s a brand — money. Like this — this is about money. Keeping an established author alive for profit.”</p>
  <p>“Don’t some authors make more money after their death?”</p>
  <p>“Some aren’t even published until after their death. But someone must have run the calculations and found this was profitable.”</p>
  <p>“If it was Veronica’s idea, we’re looking for someone who wanted a bigger piece of the pie or had a grudge. If it was the publisher’s idea…”</p>
  <p>“Then they’re assholes.”</p>
  <p>“They’re assholes regardless — they knew what was going on. If it was the publisher’s idea, maybe Veronica wasn’t as happy with the idea as she let on. She was already wealthy — why go after more money?” JT looks at her skeptically, and she gives her own eye-roll back. “Maybe she didn’t want to keep quiet anymore. The executive editor coming in here for questioning?” Joshua hadn’t been the most cooperative when they’d talked to him inside of the publishing firm, but they’d encountered worse. At least his defiance was the quiet variety, not the kicking and screaming variant.</p>
  <p>“Still awaiting the lawyerly conversation to finish. Corporate bullshit,” JT huffs under his breath.</p>
  <p>“We press him with the emails and notes gathered. She was in his chain of command — he’s responsible. See if he’s a little more talkative with that.”</p>
  <p>“If the lawyer comes with him, we may not get a word in.”</p>
  <p>“We’ll give it a try. What’s the wor—” Dani stops, realizing they’re pretty damn close to the worst thing already and don’t need to chance it.</p>
  <p>“Aniday Owellpay,” JT jokes.</p>
  <p>“Yeah — you’re not picking the names either.”</p>
</div>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks for reading. Head back to the <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26497927/chapters/64588570#workskin">Bookshelf</a> to pick another book. :)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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